My Path to Magic 2: A Combat Alchemist (23 page)

"
What if my guys hit a container with explosives or drop it?" the corporal in charge of the stormtroopers asked. He certainly knew a bit about unstable substances.

"Let's
hope they won't. Move!"

Captain Baer
mentally crossed his fingers - he had no evidence of the involvement of the inhabitants of the farm with the kidnapping. What if
Rustle
was mistaken? Satal didn't file a formal report about his missing children. Fortunately the stormtroopers, busily preparing knives and crossbows for the attack, did not care about the nuances of the law. The armed men looked surreal among overripe apple trees and singing crickets.

"There are n
o dogs," a scout, who had been sent ahead, reported back to the corporal. "Only chickens in the yard."

The men began to
filter through the farm's fence one at a time; Satal didn't let Baer go into the house: "You've decorated yourself with amulets like a Kashtadarian woman with beads. Stay here!" And the captain stayed in the bushes along with the magician, trampling grass and getting angry with his loss of control over the situation. Kevinahari meditated, enjoying the delicious aroma of the apple orchard.

The
attack took three minutes at most. Of all the kidnappers present in the basement, only one spotted the appearance of the armed men in time to respond: he rushed to the metal container, mounted on a high tripod. The fate of all the people inside would have been tragic, if a brisk, lively little boy hadn't rushed under his feet at the same moment. Ropes couldn't keep the active children in one place for long. Not expecting such a maneuver, the guard fell on the floor within reach of the second twin and was immediately bitten on the ear. The little kids, angered by their long captivity, plunged their teeth, howling, into the victim. Shocked by the children's behavior, the stormtroopers dawdled, and the artisan almost lost his ear.

The d
rowsy quietness of the autumn evening exploded with sound and movement. The steps of the stormtroopers rattled in the old house. The arrested artisans were searched and tied up; one of the trucks, left on the country road, was moved into the yard - the stormtroopers intended to stay there overnight. Frightened chickens mindlessly ran around under people's feet. Satal, haggard but happy, kept watching his offspring climbing in admiration on the hoods of the trucks; the children's faces were smeared with blood. All three of them together looked like a family of vampires, who had just had a meal.

"
I guess your sons don't need an empath's help," Kevinahari murmured softly. Captain Baer chuckled, agreeing. Slightly to the side, the team's healer bandaged the captive, groaning in pain, whose skin hung in flaps. The stormtroopers were saved from bites by the twins' teeth due to their helmets and armor: the young dark creatures saw no difference between their kidnappers and saviors, and only their father managed to tame the little beasts.

The corporal
in charge of the stormtroopers was about to set a cordon, till the arrival of the experts.

Captain Baer
glanced at the quickly darkening sky: "Do you have a special illumination, corporal? Dan, do you feel the presence of protective amulets here?"

"
No, I don't. Even if they had been here before, the owners tore down everything," Satal deftly picked up one of his twins, falling off the truck's footboard, and habitually slapped his back.

"
We don't have enough amulets to set a protective perimeter," the corporal became worried. "We didn't plan to stay overnight."

"
Let's go back to the city," Captain Baer ordered. "I do not want to make the acquaintance of your new boyfriend, Dan."

The captives
were loaded in one truck and the aggressive twins of the senior coordinator in another. Even if they were a hundred times dark, children remained children: the boys were tired of the abundance of impressions and fell asleep sitting up - clinging to their father from both sides with a touching confidence.  Baer looked askance at them and considered whether Satal became great and terrible before or after his marriage.

"
By the way," Kevinahari was in a state close to euphoria after the successful saving of the hostages, "what did the creature demand from you for its help? In addition to the non-use of inhibitors, of course."

"
He asked for nothing," Satal smiled, "
Rustle
made it clear - it was his gift."

T
he truck bounced over a bump; one of the twins turned over in his sleep, and his father pulled him back on the bench.

"
A strange creature," the captain muttered.

"
An intelligent being," the magician brushed him off.  "I wonder why Tangor did not get along with him."

The captain
kept his opinion to himself: after all, forty days of the quarantine were still ahead for Satal.

I listened to the speech of
a new assistant director, broadcasting his vision of Biokin's future, and tried to figure out what again went wrong with my life. I had a job, a decent income that Uncle Gordon could only dream of, a place to live, respect from my colleagues, plenty of spare time, a city full of entertainment, no onerous duties, and even NZAMIPS forgot about me for a while.

What
was I still missing? I felt myself a clerk and did not like this feeling. Should a real alchemist, privy to the mysteries of Existence, an almost almighty wizard, live like a clerk? Even the miserable life of Uncle Gordon was closer to my ideal: in our valley he was the only alchemist, while in Redstone I was the best of many.

As
an incentive, Biokin offered its employees free coffee in any quantity - of course, without brandy. I sipped the murky swill and recalled with nostalgia coffee breaks with Polak's secretaries.

"
Thomas, are you free tonight?"

As they say,
mention a devil, and it will appear. Biokin's mastermind was full of enthusiasm as usual, but now Polak wore a business suit, in no way inferior to mine, and his hair was styled fashionably.

I did not
plan anything for the upcoming evening and replied without hesitation, "Yes, I am!"

"
This is great," he smiled. "We are going to have a party for the employees who worked here for a long time. Will you come?"

"
Absolutely!" I didn't go out for a drink for some time, and my sober existence began to depress me. I browsed through the accumulated papers (one of the new alchemists had drawn a gasifier without a pressure relief valve; a trifle, of course, but when shit hits your face, it isn't funny) and at seventeen hundred sharp went out of the office looking for the party.

The e
mployees with the longest service time were Polak, Johan, and me; Carl was not invited, and soon I understood why Polak and Johan devised a rebellion.

"
Unfortunately, Biokin's investors are not interested in new projects. The company was conceived as a start-up for innovative projects, but now it has degenerated into a brigade of draftsmen," Polak sighed, passing to me a glass of beer and a plate of pork ears. Johan, who wrote endless reports at work, grimly nodded, agreeing.

I took a long sip - t
he beer was good. Maybe investors became a little bit smarter?

"
Having trouble finding a new job?" I addressed my question to both of them.

Polak s
hook his head. I had never seen him so serious before.

"
No, we aren't. We want to start anew. The problem is that our interests lie in a field most experts consider unfeasible. I can find money for it, anyway; but without your help we won't solve our task," a fanatical glow appeared in Polak's eyes. "If successful, this project will be a blast!"

I
pondered, while eating the pork. Were these freeloaders trying to get on my neck? "What's your project about?"

Johan
put a plump packet on the table, and Polak moved it toward me, "You'd better form your own opinion of the problem. You will decide whether we start this venture."

I turned over
the bundle of papers, tied criss-cross with twine. "Okay, I'll look at it, but later."

Polak sighed,
"Take your time. As far as I know, we have no competitors."

I returned home almost sobe
r, with a hefty package under my arm. In the old days I greatly enjoyed free drinks, but now they didn't dissipate my boredom. Another "gift" waited for me at the concierge desk - a letter with a pre-printed address on the envelope: Redstone's commissioner of the Roland the Bright Fund invited me for an interview.

The a
rrival of the letter did not bother me; I sincerely believed that Satal would handle my affairs with the fund. In the worst case, I would discuss a repayment of my loan. I took the next day off and went to NZAMIPS to talk to my higher-ups about the upcoming interview with my lender.

T
he Holy Trinity - the senior coordinator, the captain, and the empath - were having tea in the small office of Captain Baer. "I told you," the captain grumbled.

I frowned.

"Have you read today's newspapers?" Kevinahari asked.

Were
they bullying me?

"
No, I haven't."

"Then what
have you forgotten here?" Satal's question stunned me.

"Something important
! Yesterday I received a request to come from the Roland Fund. What should I do?"

Sata
l indifferently shrugged. I must say that he looked like shit.

"
Address your question to my successor."

"
Your temporarily acting successor," the empath corrected him.

"
Leave this verbiage out, Rona! In our business nobody forgives mistakes."

"
What mistakes?" the captain was outraged. "Last operation was executed without a hitch. We haven't found the missing amulets yet, but it does not mean…"

Satal
rolled his eyes up: "I do not care about the amulets. No one will allow a magician possessed by
Rustle
to supervise the region."

The l
ast thing I needed now was a new supervisor. The filthy monster crapped on me again!

"W
ho will be my new boss?"

"
It's a surprise."

I
slammed the door behind me when I left. Shit! Did any of them ever think of me? Though, perhaps, it was too early to panic. The most that the Roland Fund could request from me under the contract would be a few years of work on an average salary. I could even agree to go to Arango. And let Captain Baer worry whether my new job would be compatible with my NZAMIPS duties.

On
the way out, on the porch of NZAMIPS headquarters, I suddenly recalled that Satal was married. Should I tell him about
Rustle
's strange interest in sex or leave him to sleep in peace? Let it come as a surprise for him!

The c
ommissioner of the Roland Fund reacted to my visit philosophically; perhaps, students frequently bothered him with the same questions. "Sir, there are some things that are not clear from the text of my contract…"

"
Go ahead and ask, I'll be happy to clarify any ambiguities," the official smiled sourly.

"
The contract shall enter into force in forty days. Has the day count begun from the delivery of the notice?"

"
No, from your graduation date."

So
my time was running out. "I heard that you sometimes agree to monetary compensation."

"
Only in exceptional cases - for graduates who are needed for special projects, and they pay off the loan with a lump sum payment."

Thus
, this option was for lucky guys bought by large firms. I was slightly short of the full loan amount. "Okay, I owe you two years…"

"
Three," the official corrected me. "We paid for your extra classes, too."

Shit
…Because of the damned dark magic, which I did not want in the first place, I owed them an additional year of work!

"
Let it be three," no time to argue about trifles. "How will the 'average rate' be calculated?"

"
As an average rate in the profession for a given level of experience."

"
If my job is salaried, how many hours will I have to work per week? If by project, who will provide me with clients?" It was an important question; their "average across the industry" could be based on the low salaries of alchemists in the public sector, who had to work on two-three jobs simultaneously to make a living. Or I could be sent to a rural farm, where a wheel would be the only alchemic tool. I was afraid that I would have to keep the wolf from the door for the next three years.

The c
ommissioner looked at me with some interest: "Do not worry, we watch out for the interests of our fellows. Your wages won't be lower than the subsistence minimum."

"
Calculated for which location?" He seemed to be hiding something.

The c
ommissioner rummaged in his desk and handed me a brochure.  "Our methods of calculation. Have a look."

For
ten minutes I carefully studied the brochure. Their approach seemed to be quite reasonable: they were taking into account the local cost of housing and surplus or shortage of alchemists in the area.

"
Thank you, sir," I returned the brochure to the official. "Could you please tell me where I will go?"

"
Your place of work will be chosen from the list of municipalities that submitted their requests to the government of Ingernika."

T
he main thing was to be persistent. "Certainly, sir. I'm sure that such an approach is to the benefit of both our country and me," I showed enthusiasm. "But I was injured during my internship. I am taking a course of treatment and want to make sure that there will be healers of appropriate qualifications wherever you will send me to."

The c
ommissioner pursed his lips as I put on his desk a letter from NZAMIPS, which explicitly requested in the inimitable doctor's jargon that I be provided with the appropriate care (the staff healer was more empathic than my direct supervisors).

"
Hmm. If I give you a month of deferment, will you recuperate by then?"

"I think so."

"Then I'll postpone the date when you must begin your work. Bring me a letter from your doctor in a month."

"
Agreed!" Within the next month I planned to meet the new senior coordinator and resolve the conflict of interest. If the commissioner didn't back out, I would be very busy in the next thirty days: to finish some financial matters, prematurely terminate my lease, get rid of unnecessary stuff, negotiate my new patent with Quarters and, of course, decide what to do with Polak's mysterious project.

After returning home,
I grabbed the project: clippings and summaries of articles in the folder covered a period of the last twenty years; there was even a small monograph on the same topic. Half of the texts were in Kashtadarian, which I barely understood after a short university course I took three years ago. Kashtadar was the birthplace of alchemy, and they still tried to compete with us. I decisively put aside the gibberish scrolls and turned to the monograph, written in Ingernik.

The o
re bacteria. Well, let's see why Polak wasn't satisfied with the traditional metallurgy.

The book really
impressed me, a degreed alchemist with several years of experience, by its detailed calculations of profitability. My university professors paid almost no attention to issues of profit, and it turned out that I missed a lot of interesting stuff. Ingernika's industry suffered from the high cost of non-ferrous metals. Copper, gold, silver, iron, and lead were needed by all, magicians and alchemists. Our state experienced no shortage of iron ore, but the situation was totally opposite with non-ferrous metals: their resources were close to complete exhaustion. The depletion of metal deposits hampered the progress of our civilization. I began to see why Uncle Gordon tried to save every piece of scrap machinery.

The ore bacteria could help
concentrate and extract metals - of course, if someone could figure out how to use them profitably. Polak compiled all the crazy ideas of our predecessors and came to the conclusion that they wouldn't work, that the costs would be prohibitively high. It was a very exciting reading. I wondered if I was clever enough to solve the major problem of humankind and decided that they overestimated my abilities. But Polak's phrase about our brilliant financial prospects, if we succeeded, already sprouted in my heart into a vision of a great me, a genius…rich…famous…a statue of myself from pure silver…a four-story tower with an elevator on an isolated island…